


Collector of Killers

by zzoaozz



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Language, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzoaozz/pseuds/zzoaozz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The FBI asks the X-Men for help with a sudden surge in serial killer activity.   Their efforts are hampered by the inexplicable appearance of Juggernaut.   Why is he there, what does he want with the killer's heads, and what is causing this strange outbreak of violence?  As they piece the clues together,  Logan finds himself growing closer to Nightcrawler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prayer for the Living

**Author's Note:**

> This is not strictly set in the comicverse or the movieverse but somewhere in between. Juggenaut is definitely the one from the comics though. Huge and powerful and skilled in black magic.

*BAMPH* 

That one was far too close, he had seen the stream of bullets as if time had slowed to one tenth normal speed. There had been a flash from the Uzi muzzle and an arc of small caliber death was heading right toward his head. He had teleported a breath, no more than that, before the huge, framed picture he had been standing in front of had exploded. What had it been? Girls in sundresses beside a summer pool, a copy of something famous, gone now in a spray of deadly splinters. Now he crouched atop a precarious stack of dusty furniture and locked his yellow, demonic eyes on the madman cornered below. 

Wolverine was advancing now. Bullets thudded into him not even staggering him as they blew away chunks of flesh and clothing. The metal skeleton, Kurt thought vaguely, it weighs too much for the bullets to knock him back. Blood sprayed from the Canadian painting fans of dirty maroon in the dust on the walls and dripping sluggishly from every surface making them treacherous even for one as agile and acrobatic as him. It stank horribly too. His own scent of sulfur and brimstone was actually an improvement over the visceral, coppery stench. The whole foundation shook as the fourth player in the drama re-entered dramatically by walking through the sliding steel door in front. 

He leaped from his perch, arms and legs extended, tail straight out not unlike a flying squirrel leaping from a branch. His target was a massive bulldozer of a man. The Juggernaut wanted the serial killer for some unknown reason, but whatever that reason was it could not be a good thing for the X-men or the world in general. There was a moment of vertigo as his dome shaped helmet, bigger around than the elf-like mutant's entire body rushed up at him with break neck speed then he struck the cold metal, grasped it with his three fingered hands. The last time Kurt had carried him down the street to the house they had followed their prey from. It had been four blocks and had left him aching and weak in every limb. He was six maybe seven hundred pounds at least, hard to transport too, something about the black magic that gave him his power made him resist being moved. It had only taken the huge man fifteen minutes to get back. It just was not enough. He had to do better no matter how hard it was. This time he would take him farther. Logan could not fight on two fronts especially a nearly unbeatable enemy like this one. Thick claws found purchase as he visualized the alley outside a pizza parlour they had eaten at two or was it three days ago. 

*Bamph* Brief image of confusion on a face framed in by an ugly metal helmet - confused people looking for a moment - a girl's scream - a man's shout of Mutant Attack- people running - smell of garlic and cheese - *Bamph* 

The Wolverine stood over the killer with bloodied claws still extended from bruised knuckles. He was still, too still. His eyes were locked on something in front of him, something that had been hidden by the gloom in the storage building and the spray of bullets. Nightcrawler slipped up quietly behind him not wanting to look. It took all his willpower to raise his head and follow his companion's stare to the support beams of the unit. He knew what he would see and he wanted to turn away, but somehow he was compelled to look. They were too late. The child was like the others, violated and broken then hung by the ankles until she bled out. Her skin, covered in delicate green scales, was striped with burns and cuts and her face was frozen in a look of terror. It seemed to stare at him in mute accusation. 

"Too late," his voice shook, the German accent thickening. "Ve vere too late." 

"Save yer tears, Crawler. She's gone on now, to that God of yours I reckon. If he takes mutants like you say." 

He reached up startled to feel wetness marring his cheeks. He hissed softy then drew a breath. He should have said something then about God's love, it was an opportunity, but he was so tired, so numb inside. She was staring right through his soul asking it why they had not come sooner? "She vas only a baby?"

A solid chest blocked her dead gaze and without thinking about it, he buried his face in a burly neck and closed his eyes tight fighting the rising terror inside of him. Arms, strong and unyielding wrapped around him and his own slid around his companion's thick waist clinging to him, trembling. His tail whipped around them both holding them with desperate strength. 

He started to pray aloud then caught himself. Logan sometimes got angry with him for his faith, but this time was different. 

"Go ahead pray for her, for us, for a fucked up world where sick shit happens every day. If it makes ya feel better, pray." His voice was hoarse and angry but not with him. 

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." 

What had she wanted, the little girl with green scales and faceted eyes like a butterfly or a dragonfly? Had she lain awake at night praying that she could just wake up and look like everybody else the way he had so many nights? Had she dreamed of being a princess or a ballerina or a race car driver or whatever little girls dreamed of in this age? His heart ached. 

"He maketh me lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters, he restoreth my soul. "He leadeth me on the path of righteousness for his name's sake." 

How much more blood could his battered soul bear. He had seen so much death, so much hate, so much bitterness, and how much worse was it for Logan who was so much older, so much more violent. That darkness in his eyes, how could even the healing factor keep it from poisoning his soul? What of him? Who comforted the Wolverine?

"Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me." 

Had he strayed so far he would never see Heaven's glory. Would he stand before the gates one day and be turned away for the blood he had shed ? Would she be there, the poor dead girl he had let down, to point and whisper that it was not enough, too little too late.

"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." 

His voice was muffled in Logan's shoulder and those metal reinforced arms held him a little more tightly than was comfortable. Logan was so warm, so strong. He felt hurt and guilt too. Many people, even the X-Men did not realize that. He was such a living legend that it was easy to forget. His courage, his ferocity, and even his strength were nothing beside the incredible power of the heart that beat under his gruff exterior. He bound them together, made them all stronger. 

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. my cup runneth over."

The beat of his heart, strong, steady, sure. If he he could climb inside that broad chest, curl around it, protect with his own frail life until he became one with it...

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." 

The whispered "Amen" that joined his own startled him. He looked up and touched a rugged cheek. He said nothing about the dampness there and no threat of death or torture would ever drag that from him. 

"Ten kids, bastard, not one of 'em older than eight. Sick piece of shit. What did Jughead want with him, though? He ain't never shown no interest in crime fightin'."

That was true, his presence had been important. There was something he had noticed when he teleported them, something important. He tried to remember but he was getting dizzy and his head was full of sharp edged splinters of glass. 

 

"Something is not..." He swayed on his feet. In Nightcrawler, that simple movement seemed alien, utterly inhuman. His lithe body seemed almost boneless, partly his mutated body structure, partly his circus training. His tail normally in a state of restless, near constant movement landed on the floor with a dull thud. He stared at it without recognition as he realized the floor was moving. He felt Logan gather him up into his arms just before darkness took him. 

He woke up in the med lab. This was really getting to be too much of a habit. A thickly furred blue hand rested briefly on his forehead. He licked dry lips and murmurred, "Something is wrong, everything is blue and furry."

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny, my friend. You have been spending entirely too much time with Logan as of late." 

"You takin' my name in vain, Blue?" Logan stood up from the chair and walked over to the bed. 

"Hmm, it would seem you are the only one here at present who is not blue." Hank tapped a clawed finger on his chin in a scholarly manner. "My friend, that makes you the minority for the moment." 

"Hey, who's complainin'. Blue's my favorite color." 

"Good choice," he murmured around the headache. "Why is my head trying to explode, Doctor McCoy?" 

"Over use of your abilities. Backlash is what the psychically gifted call it. Apparently, the nature of the Juggernaut's ability is increased inertia. When in motion he tends to stay in motion and when at rest, he resists any attempt to move his mass. You over-exerted yourself. You will be fine in a few days. Refrain from teleporting though. I can give you some pain medication, but given your unique metabolism I would prefer someone monitor you if you take it. 

"I will be alright, Doctor. I just need to rest and drink some good black tea."

"As you wish. Logan would you mind seeing him to his room then?"

"You got it, come on Crawly."

He stood grunting as the floor wavered under him. He was almost to him room leaning heavily on Logan's arm when it hit him. "He had a bag. An empty bag, just big enough to." he trailed of as a wave of nausea doubled him over. 

"Y'all right?" 

He wanted to tell the rest of what he had noticed about the bag, but he could not quite reach it through the pain. He allowed Logan to guide him to bed and tuck him in trying to remind himself to remember it when he woke, but sleep claimed him first and the memory dimmed as they tended to do.


	2. Beating The Bushes

"Whaddya mean, you couldn't find his head, Gumbo?"

"Jus' wha Gambit said. It gone, *poof* One minute it go flying with one of his arms and dat big ass ax over t'garden border, the next minute it gone. Gambit and Colossus search t'whole place. Someone, had to take it. It didn't walk away, once it blow t'pieces." 

Remy pulled his long Auburn hair back from his sweaty face and twisted it up into a ponytail. He was flushed looking and uncharacteristically disheveled from his mission and the dramatic battle that concluded it. His partner was slumped on a straight backed chair and looking every bit as exhausted and as pale as the Acadian was florid.

"The head is not the important thing," Pete said quietly but firmly, "we saved the ladies he had not mutilated yet. That is what counts, yes?"

"Yes of course it is." Nightcrawler hastened to reassure the big Russian. The metal skinned mutant hated violence and bloodshed as much he himself did and he understood the uncertainty of having to take lives to save lives. "They are alive and with time and therapy, they can forget this nightmare and go on with their lives."

"Oui, dats right, and Gambit is in and done tonight. He gone shower and turn in and forget dis as much as he can too. You should do the same, Pete. Dat kinda person, he ain't a person at all, he's a thing, a monster t'be put down like the rabid dog." 

Big brown eyes looked up at him. "This is so?" 

"Damn right it is," Logan agreed vehemently. "There's nothing left human in a person that can do that to another person." 

"I think that Logan and Remy are right in this. That man was of Satan and no other." Nightcrawler's tail flicked out to lightly pat Pete's hand. 

"Thank you my comrades. I needed to hear that." 

"Night Gumbo, Tin Man, good work, both of ya." Gambit stared at Logan in shock, then shook his head before heading wearily toward his own room. Pete followed him out looking a little more at peace with himself than he had before. 

Kurt found himself alone in the small lounge with Wolverine who was staring into the empty fireplace and brooding. "What bothers you, my friend?" 

"That video footage from the jet. There's something here that ain't adding up. Okay, follow me here. The department of justice asks us to help them out on their serial killer files. We track down three of em so far, right? The first time, Jughead horns in on Scott and Wings, and takes the killer who knows where, but the killing stops. Then we track down the Playground Killer and who shows up again. But you kept him from getting what he wanted that time. Now Gumbo loses the head offa the Shoe Store Slayer and who is strolling through the neighborhood?"

"You are sure that was Juggernaut you saw in the video?"

"Positive. Ain't many people that size stomping around in a costume made out of steel I-beams and manhole covers." 

Kurt hissed laughter at the thought then abruptly straightened up grabbing Logan's shoulders for emphasis as his tail whipped madly back and forth. "The bag!" It hit him suddenly what he had meant to tell him before. "Juggernaut was carrying a bag! It was all made of something slick and leathery looking and had symbols all over it and diagrams, like the ones on the seal of his helmet. It was about the size of- of a- well of a man's head." 

Logan turned and stared at him. "C'mon, Crawley, we got some recon to do."

"What?" He swayed in place, "now?" 

"Yeah, cause what I'm thinking is too crazy to tell anyone without something to back it up. Can you port me to that crime scene?" 

"I've only seen it on the cameras. I could land us in a brick wall or something."

"I got faith in ya, Elf. Don't worry about it, just do it." 

He closed his eyes a long moment, "why do I let you talk me into these things." 

"Must be my charmin' personality." 

He rolled his eyes expressively then stepped closer. "Hold on, it is a long way." 

*BAMPH*

He watched nervously as Logan went over the entire crime scene, from the basement where the women had been held captive, starved, tortured, and degraded, to the well kept garden where Gambit had finally taken the killer out with an exploding container of gasoline. He touched the ground impressed at the good sized crater. "Gambit was very angry at the killer, to overcharge it enough to make a hole this big." 

"Yeah," Wolverine agreed. "The head went over this border with the arm, and here's where the police found the arm next to the yard gnome. Shit, this landscaping should have told the neighbors he was a sick freak." He pointed to the chalk line. "So if the head rolled a little, it shoulda gone in these bushes here. Help me look for anything. Your eyes are as good as mine in the dark ain't they?" 

"The are very good in the dark, yes." He actually had trouble in bright day light, not the opposite. He got down and began to carefully pick through the bushes. "I hope there is no poison ivy in here." 

"You allergic? If you get in it, I'll strip you down and rub that pink lotion stuff all over you." Kurt froze wide-eyed at the very thought as he continued , "Heck I might do it anyway, would ya turn purple or sorta Easter egg pink?" 

"Logan! You would not!" 

"Ya think not? Sounds fun and educational to me. " 

He started to answer indignantly when something caught his eye. "Wolverine, look here, I found where the head was." He heard movement behind him and Logan was crawling in over him. His larger body warm and solid and very close to his. 

"Whatcha got?" 

"There is hair from his head. See? It is a strange color of red."

"Fake I bet." Logan spoke so close to his ear Kurt shivered. "Look, what's that?" He shoved aside a thick clump of monkey grass and they were looking through a good sized hole in the stone wall. One that opened onto the street. 

"The debris is on this side, someone made the hole from the street." 

"You're right, Bub, someone with a fist about as big as my head and shoulders." 

"And a bag just big enough for a head." 

"Yeah."

"But why?"

"I don't know but I'm gonna find out. You in, Elf?" 

"I am in." 

"Good." A big hand rested on his shoulder for a moment and squeezed it. "You're a good guy, Kurt." 

"Danke, Logan, so are you." He felt Wolverine back out of the bushes and give him room to join him. "Where to now?" 

"Back home until we can figure out the next move." 

"I was hoping you would say that, this place is very creepy." He reached over catching Logan's shoulders firmly. "It makes me need a shower."


	3. Patterns Within Patterns

"I really do not need your help on this one Logan, we agreed to take turns with the files."

"Well yer getting it anyway, Blondie. Scooter has his nose stuck up the mayor's rear trying to smooth over that little incident in the mall."

"Then I will handle this alone, or get one of the others to help me. I do not want to spend an entire mission with you questioning every word I say and flagrantly disregarding me because you like to see how far you can push me." 

"Aw, but I really wanted to spend some good quality time alone with ya, Wings. Yer plumb cute when yer a stuck up self-righteous asswipe." 

"That does it, I have had it up to here with you, you overgrown-" Warren Worthington III snapped his tirade off in mid sentence as the door to the archives clicked open. By the time the director was three steps into the room, he had his best diplomatic smile on and his hand out for the kind of hearty, faux-sincere shake that made Logan want to puke. 

He listened until the back patting and politicking turned into monotonous blah blah-ing in his ears then went back to the thick file. He fingered the artist sketches of the killer flipping between them. This one was one dangerous bastard, it didn't take a brain surgeon to figure that out. His victims weren't children or helpless women, no this fucker liked to play. His victims were various ages and occupations, male and female, old and young. The only thing they had in common was skill. He flipped through the photos memorizing the victims before and after pictures. There was the slender blond track star glowing with triumph after her record win, then sliced to ribbons, muscles separated, calf and thighs stripped right down to the bone in a puddle of blood in the center of the cross country track at the damn high school. Kids had found her like that. Kids that had to be fucked in the head thanks to the monster that did it. The second victim, a strapping guy with bulging muscles and dopey grin lifting a boxing belt high over his head. Then lying in the center of the ring in an arena in Queens with the bared bones of his hands looking small and unreal in the crimson pool of gore. The hunter with his eyes dissected, the aerobics instructor with her buttocks hacked away, the diver with her lungs cut out floating cold and dead in the public pool in the park. 

He only realized he was growling when Warren touched his should, "Easy Wolverine, we'll get him." 

"Don't try and stand between me an' him Wings." 

Warren slid one picture from the stack, a small boy holding an archery ribbon. He did not turn over the next photo in the stack to see the boy's fate. Instead he took a long look at the blond haired, blue eyed child and spoke softly, "there's a fine line between what's legal and what's just. That's why they called us in. You bring this one to justice Logan and I'll watch your back. You have my word." 

Faded blue eyes met sky blue in silent understanding. "Consider it done, Angel." 

Forty eight sleepless hours later, he was grateful for the team leader's presence as he swooped down battering the air with his wings and kicking up a hail of soot and ash from the coal yard to blind the massive man that lunged at him with a railroad tie held aloft like a child's baseball bat. He slashed and ripped at the stolen muscles that bulged and rippled hideously on the outside of the Hunter's body. He gagged at the stench of rotten meat and the sound his claws made as they sloughed away the dead flesh sewn to his own. 

"Logan, careful! He is coming in low!"

He jumped straight up somersaulting then dropping hard one foot extended. There was a satisfying crunch as his full weight came down on the killer's spine and he stomped again and again until the bastard quit twitching. Angel true to his word turned the other way as he ground the demented murderer into pulp. He heard the warning a moment too late as an impossible force drove into his shoulder just before he brought his foot down on the skull.

He woke up at dusk to find Warren leaning over him and wiping his face with a wash cloth. The normally impeccable millionaire was grimy and sweaty and covered in bruises. "Ya look like somebody slammed ya against a light pole a few times."

"Funny, that's where I woke up."

"Jughead take the body?" 

"Just the head, you flattened the rest." 

"Where's that map?"

"The one from the Bureau?" 

"Yeah, I gotta see something." 

It was well past midnight when they made it back to the mansion too weary to do more than grab a shower and nod at each other as they headed for their own rooms. Logan was reaching for the doorknob when he changed his mind and headed quietly down the hallway. He stopped at Kurt's door and knocked lightly. He was about to turn away when it opened and bleary yellow eyes blinked at him. 

"What? Logan? Something is wrong?" 

"Nah, didn't mean to wake yah, Crawley. Just wanted to talk or something." 

"Come in, Logan. Did you find this killer?" 

"Yeah, we found him and our old buddy the walking port o potty too. I want ya to look at something."

"What is it?" 

He pulled the backpack off his shoulder and pulled out the maps with Warren's neat lines and marks on them. The winged mutant had thought he was crazy until he filled in the points on the map himself using his fancy gps thingie. Once he saw what Logan had figured our he was convinced. He had copies of the same maps and was going to show Scott and Hank in the morning. Wolverine had figured they would believe it better coming from a goody two shoes than from him. Something was gnawing at him though and would not let him wait until morning. It was not any of the questions that popped up as they began to piece together the patterns within patterns that the FBI had missed, no it was the same old question that had been on his mind, what did Juggernaut have to do with a chain of serial killers."

"I see, there are the individual victims in circles that overlap each other and in the center of the places where two circles overlap is where the killers are found. If this pattern is deliberate there will be two more sets of victims and two more killers. Six circles with six killers."

"But the number of victims vary. If it was six or thirteen or some shit like that, I would think some cult or something was behind it, or if the victims were all virgins or something." Logan yawned and scratched his stubbled cheek.

"I do not think it is like that, Logan. These are serial killers. Something turns on this darkness in them and they make a kill, then it is as if they cannot stop, they must kill. Cults kill for ceremonies, it is not a personal thing." 

"Something turns them on. Something turns them on, then they have to be turned off. Damn, that's it! Yer a genius, Elf. Hell, I'd kiss ya if I wasn't too damned tired to stand up!"

"What? I do not understand?" 

"Something picked this pattern, something hunted out these killers and recognized their sick fucked up brains. Something or someone turned them on somehow, let them kill until there were enough bodies to make his pattern, then is going around turning them off once their work is done. Someone who needs something from them. Shit! I gotta find out where they took the playground killer. I gotta find out if he's about a head shorter now than when we took him in! 

"The Juggernaut? He is behind this?" 

"He has to be! Come on, we gotta get moving!"

"Nein, not tonight my friend. Tonight you are going to sleep, you can use my bed. You are too tired to do any good. Besides now that we have the pattern we can stop the Juggernaut and his killers before the pattern is completed." 

"But we have to-" He was silenced by a spade shaped tail slapping lightly over his lips. "Sh, no arguments, my friend. We know the killers are here. He pointed at the map with his thick finger. We must all work as one to stop them at the same time. The Juggernaut is not Multiple Man, he can be only one place at a time and he is going counterclockwise. We will be where he is and send the others to stop the other killers. If we fail, logic says we will find him here, in the center of the pattern, right?" 

He lifted the tail and nipped the very tip with his teeth earning a yelp from his teammate. "Two hours Crawley, and only if ya curl up with me, then we gotta stop this before anyone else dies."

"Two hours, yes." He set the alarm clock and grunted in surprise as Logan snagged him effortlessly and dragged him down onto the bed with him. Apparently he meant what he said literally. He squirmed around until his back was tucked up snugly against Logan. "Sleep well, my friend." 

"You too, elf."


	4. Plan of Action

"They must have something in common, something we can trace back. Maybe a crazy psychiatrist that saw each of them?" Scott was reaching. 

"Wha' like Hannibal Lector in dose movies?" Gambit Scoffed. 

"Perhaps it is some sort of chemical or viral factor?" Pete offered quietly. "Someone might be testing a biological weapon out." 

"Now that's a possibility. That might even explain why Juggernaut is involved." Scott nodded, experimentation he understood, mysticism was another thing entirely.

There was a quiet burr as Hank's phone danced on the table. He picked it up and scrolled the text message. "You guessed it, Logan. The head is missing from the morgue. More than that, they have remains that are tentatively being identified as Rhineholt, the Rest Stop Killer that Juggernaut took and the head is missing, apparently it was 'twisted off with great force'." 

"That pretty much cinches it, doesn't it." Bobby gazed at the map. "Well we can look at the files and victim locations and see which of the other killers he is after."

"Maybe we should, well, I don't know but he's killing serial killers, maybe we should just wait until he's done, you know? None of these people are worth saving, we were going to kill them ourselves if they didn't give in and let us arrest them?" 

Logan sighed and wondered not for the first time, when Kitty had grown so jaded. She was still a sweet little girl who could walk through walls in his mind. He noticed Pete's hand squeeze hers reassuringly for just a moment before moving away. There was something there, in spite of the age difference, something real and growing and probably doomed. His eyes jumped to the empty seat no one had the heart to take away just yet, Jean's seat.

The meeting continued on and he tuned it out leaning back in his chair and idly watching them all. He found himself staring more than once at Kurt. He was listening with a frown of concern between his brows. His tail fanned lazily behind him reminding him of a hunting dog on a leash looking for something to get into. He raised his foot and waited patiently until it slid within reach then trapped it against the floor. The tip flicked and twitched like a cat and Kurt tugged at it absently. He let it up quickly then waited again, patient as a wolf on the stalk then nabbed it letting up when Kurt flicked it back. He repeated the process four times before golden eyes locked on him reproachfully. He grunted and let the tail go, trying to pull his attention back to the debate. He was just starting to settle in when something tickled his ear. He reached up and flipped the tail lightly and it skittered away. He chuckled. 

"Did you have something to add, Logan?" Scott was eyeing him from behind his ruby shades. 

"Sure did, Slim. Why we wasting time talking about the whys of it, when we all know damn well that Jughead wouldn't be doing anything that didn't mean trouble. We need to be planning how to stop him and the killers too. We can't let those fuckers get away, now that they're on they won't just stop killing. We got to get them all and stop Marko and we got to do it now."

"Ageed." Warren's swift and certain support startled him. "We have a responsibility to stop the murderers and just as strong a responsibility to make sure that whatever plans Juggernaut has are foiled. As much as I hate to agree with Wolverine, we are wasting time here." 

"Absolutely," Beast's voice stopped Scott's protest before it began. He had earned the respect of the team many times over, and more than that, the furry blue doctor was their heart and conscience. He kept them whole physically and mentally and emotionally. He was their surrogate father since the Professor had died. "Angel and I matched the other killers to their locations on the map last night." Logan's nose twitched as his senses told him that mapping killers was not the only thing Angel and Beast had done last night. 

"Way to go Blue." He wasn't talking about the mapping and when the doctor's gaze fell on him he gave him a smirk that Hank answered with a warning glare. He nodded, he had no desire to interfere in their private lives. 

Hank lowered his head acknowledging the nod then continued. "There are two more killers in the pattern. The FBI is calling number 5 the Cellphone slayer. There are more than enough common threads in this one to identify potential victims, the problem is there are thousands of potential victims. All of them drive large SUV's, all were according to their phone records talking on their cellphones from the freeway during rush hour traffic. All have multiple tickets for improper lane control, failure to obey a traffic control device, unsafe following and passing, and other general misdemeanors. The killer appears to have either followed them all day or taken their tags and tracked them later. Two were killed at their homes, two at fast food restaurants, one at a high school where her daughter was waiting to go to a dentist appointment, three at convenient markets, and four in the WalMart parking lot. He or she then stabbed the victim repeatedly with a knife or other sharp object in the face. The nose of all the victims was bashed in postmortem and the upper teeth smashed out and their cellphones and other electronic devices, GPS units, mp3 players, and data organizers shoved into the orifices. This is a rage killer, most likely female from the clothing fibers found on the victims, in her mid thirties to mid fifties, salaried most likely, white collar, sales, or executive. The victims may have cut her off in traffic or caused near misses and she is taking them off the roads permanently.” 

“Number six is being called the pet killer. He goes for victims who are upper middle class. The common thread is that all the victims have small dogs, terriers, poodles, dauschound's, and the like. The killer drugs his victims with some sort of gas. He knocks out the whole family in their sleep, so he is familiar with their homes and able to move around unnoticed at night. The animals apparently do not see him as a stranger either since none of the neighbors reported any barking or whining. He ties up the victims, sews their eyes open, rapes them, and then removes their hearts. He chops the hearts along with their normal pet food and his own semen and feeds it to the dogs. He has killed six families, eighteen victims. The youngest was three. He is a black male probably in his forties according to genetic evidence, most likely with a family of his own. His spouse may have a better paying job than him, and his children might not respect him. The psychiatrists say he does what he does out of frustration and lack of control in his life. His DNA is not on file with the police, military or the government, so it is unlikely he is a mutant or works any job that requires background searches. He is most likely a vetrinary assistant or pet groomer or some occupation where he would come into contact with the victim’s animals enough to be familiar to them."

"How can such ordinary people be so full of evil?" Colossus asked softly.

"If I knew the answer to that, my friend, I would find a way to fix it and this would never happen again." 

There was a fierceness in Hank's reply that could only come from one who cared about every life as if it were his own. Logan saw Angel's wing shift ever so slightly until the long feathers stroked lightly against Beast's back giving comfort so subtly that he was sure no one else saw it.

"Then let’s get these bastards. I think Juggernaut will come to us if we do." Scott's voice was grim. "Logan, Colossus, we need two teams and as much as I hate to say this, you're both bulletproof."

"Just call us cannon fodder and tell us which one you want us on," Logan growled. Pete nodded his agreement.

"Good." He closed his eyes for a long moment behind his thick red lenses. "If his pattern continues clockwise, the cell killer is next, but if the killers' patterns continue the pet killer will strike first. Team one will take number five, I'll lead. Angel you take Logan with you against six. Kitty team one, Kurt on two. I want you guys to be watching constantly for Juggernaut since you can phase out or teleport if he comes for you. Do not engage him just make sure your leader knows where he is. I frankly don't care if he kills the killer, but if necessary either of you can snatch the head and run with it. Keep it from him at all costs, understood? The nods he got in reply were somber. Iceman on 1, Gambit on two. Needless to say, you two are our fire power. Your target is the killer. If we get the opportunity to ask for a surrender fine, but if you get the shot take it, don't hesitate. We're through playing here. Logan and Colossus will run interference and if needed buy time for our runners to get away with the head. I wish we had a few more teammates, but I don't want any half-trained kids on this mission and everyone else is assigned elsewhere. Beast will man the Blackbird. He'll drop team one, then two, then retreat to midpoint position on the maps. If it becomes necessary for the runners to snatch the heads, they will signal and he will pick them up first and foremost. Our priorities are one stopping the killers, and two protecting the heads. If we can't handle Juggernaut tonight, we'll hold the heads and bring him to us. Any questions? No? Be ready in two hours. Dismissed." 

Logan stood up and stretched popping his metal lined joints loudly. Warren, Hank, and Scott had their heads bowed together going over the plans. Kitty was talking to Pete anxiously. Gambit was idly walking a coin over his knuckles keeping any concerns he felt from showing. Kurt was watching him with sad, worried eyes. "What is it, Crawly?" 

"I have a bad feeling about this, I think that we are missing the Juggernaut's true intentions, and that might place us in terrible danger." 

"You got a better plan?"

"No, no I do not think so." He sighed and his tail coiled around his feet dragging the ground, 

"C'mon, we got two hours to kill. Let's look over the map again. I left it in yer room didn't I?" 

"Ja, maybe my thoughts will come clearer if I look at it." 

 

The real question was what Juggernaut wanted with the heads, what he had to gain by orchestrating this little murder party. Sure it mattered how he turned the killers on and how often they had to kill before they were ready or ripe or whatever you wanted to call it. However, all those things would not stop what was already in motion. Logan growled under his breath as he stared at the map with such intensity that by rights it should have already burst into flame. He threw his head back and scented the air like an animal not caring that Kurt was watching him. Someone was approaching, multiple someones. 

He threw open the door to admit Angel. Gambit, and Beast before they knocked. If they were caught off guard they did not show it. Kurt greeted them warmly and invited them in. Without preamble Warren walked over and picked up the map. "Scott is missing the point. I know it as well as you do, Wolverine. You did well in there though. You're getting better at holding your temper. I think it's best we let him go on looking for a logical explanation if it gets him in the right place at the right time."

He gave his team leader a suspicious look but nodded his agreement. 

"We're missing something, something right in front of our faces." A frown marred movie star handsome features as he lifted the map to the light. 

"Herr Logan thinks the same." Kurt watched Angel drawing in a little on himself the way he always did in the winged mutant's presence. 

That bothered Wolverine, but he could understand it. One looked like an angel but was no such thing, the other looked like a demon but was no such thing. Kurt was deeply religious though and Angel's physical appearance intimidated and awed him. 

"You two have done very well in piecing this together," there was a softness in Warren's voice when he talked to Kurt. 

Logan had noticed it once or twice but never questioned it before. Now it seemed clear that he knew how he made Nightcrawler feel and wanted to go out of his way to be kind to him, to show him that they were both more than they appeared. His eyes scanned the blond for a moment as he pondered whether he might have misjudged the other mutant. Certainly there was more to him than the mask he wore. He had put justice ahead of his personal preferences to catch the killer. He did not want Kurt intimidated. Why? Surely the suave socialite had never been intimidated himself. Then there was this new relationship between him and Hank. No way would the brilliant scientist go for some brain dead bit of fluff. There had to be more of substance to the man than he realized. He would have to watch him and just possibly reconsider his impression. 

Warren chuckled, "I have got to quit watching those cheesy horror movies with Bobby."

"He would be disappointed, but why do you say that, my friend?" Hank asked.

Logan smirked again 'my friend' sounded a whole lot like 'my darling' when Hank said it that way.

"This pattern started looking more like a pentagram than overlapping circles there for a moment. See this one for number six isn't exactly lined up with the others, it's outside the main grouping and farther out. It doesn't overlap either though that may just be because he hasn't finished killing yet. In a movie that would be where the evil cult leader would stand." 

"Fuck, that's it!" Wolverine slammed his fist on the table. Damn it, I could hug ya til your head popped off, Blondie." 

"Please don't, you'll wrinkle the tie. You don't seriously believe this is a pentagram instead of a circle do you?"

"You may be right, Angel sir, but this changes everything if it is true!" Nightcrawler ran the tip of his thick claw over the marks this time connecting them as a pentagram instead. 

"Why do you say that, Nightcrawler. He will still attack the killers in order will he not?" Hank watched him intently. His tail, unbeknownst to him, was lashing back and forth like a cat.

"Logan said that this Marko used black magic to give himself powers because he was jealous of the Professor, God Keep His Soul. He vanted to be a mutant, but vas not, and he grew bitter and used the magics to take power, yes?" He took a deep breath calming himself before he lost his English. "So you see, the pentagram is old magic, the upside down star, heralding not the birth of the Christ as the first star did, but his death. There were magical symbols on the bag he carried for the heads too. Just like the ones around his helmet and tattooed on his knuckles. He took his power by magic and now he is doing magic again." His eyes were glowing as the pieces fell into place for him. 

"Assuming that I suspend disbelief for a moment, " Angel asked softly, "why would someone create a pentagram of murders? What magic would he be doing and why?" 

"A pentagram of death" Logan corrected, "with a killer at each point." 

"or just a killer's head." Hank's voice was grim.

"A pentagram is used to summon a thing. The summoner stands outside the pentagram and it protects him from whatever is contained in the circle. Most of the time the pentagram is drawn in chalk then strengthened with blood from either the summoner or a sacrifice. He is summoning something terrible and powerful, something that takes rivers of blood to contain. The blood of the killers' victims are symbolized by the killer's heads. The whole area was soaked in blood and the heads form the lines that make the diagram complete. He will stand here and use the blood of the last killer for power to call up whatever it is he seeks." 

"He's summoning a demon." Angel oddly enough did not seem to have as much trouble believing in demon's as he did magic. A stint as one of Apocalypse's horsemen had a way of doing that to you, Logan knew that as well and for the same reason Warren did. 

"It seems most likely," Nightcrawler conceded. 

"Why? Just to wreak destruction and mayhem?" Hank seemed uncomfortable, but as always, he was right there shoulder to the grindstone reliable. 

"To use it to do his bidding, to harness its power somehow," Nightcrawler shrugged. 

"He likes power and if he hasn't been able to destroy us yet, he prob'ly thinks he ain't got enough," Logan growled. 

Angel frowned then nodded, "Alright team, our agenda has changed and I take full responsibility for it. I think we all know Scott would never believe this in a million years. Our primary goal is to stop Juggernaut from completing his ceremony. Actions remain basically the same, except that the killer is no longer the prime target. In fact we need to keep his blood from spilling if possible."

Gambit spoke from the corner where he had been listening in silence, "the heads are the important thing, no? Seems to Gambit that if we get one or more of t'heads and destroy them, say blow 'em up or port 'em where he can no get them ag'n we can stop d'ritual afore it begin." 

"Excellent point." Angel lowered his head a moment then nodded as if satisfied. "We take off in an hour. We'll drop team one and Juggernaut will come for the Cell Phone Killer's head, then head our way. He'll either already have the heads in place or he will head from there to make sure they are in place before he goes to the summoning spot. After the drop, Hank, you will take Gambit to location one. It is closer to six than any of the others. It's a heavy residential area and if anyone can creep around without alarming the people and find that head it's you, Gambit. Start at the GPS coordinates marked and circle outward. It will be hidden, but it must be placed very precisely to make it work I'm betting. It's probably ritualized somehow too, look for candles, upside down crosses, stuff like that. Kurt, you know the warehouse you were at on location 3, you can teleport there, look for that head. We don't have enough people or time to try for the other two so those are our best bets. Meanwhile, Hank will drop Logan and me at site 6. Hank will continue with Scott's plan with the additional imperative to remove Gambit as well as Kitty and Kurt. Logan and I will try to save the family the Pet Killer is planning on murdering. I'll scan the site from the air with night vision goggles and motion sensors. Logan you're on the ground. Use your senses, you would know better than me if something were out of place. Vets and groomers probably use specific anesthesia and that would likely be what he uses to gas the family so look for any odd smells, there might be some kind of equipment for controlling it that makes a sound, anything that doesn't belong in an upper middle class suburban neighborhood. When we find him use that healing factor to catch the bastard without killing him. This isn't a supermutant like the last one, just an ordinary psycho. Catch him alive, head intact."

"We can use him to lure Juggernaut to us if we're sure at least one other head has been destroyed," Logan pointed out expecting opposition. He was disappointed. 

"My thoughts exactly. Is everyone clear on their duties?" Angel looked at each of them in turn. "Good. Not a word of this to Scott or he'll ground the mission and we'll miss our window of opportunity. I know this isn't our normal way of doing things, but this isn't a normal situation. I'll deal with the repercussions later." 

"Not alone," Logan stated firmly and the sentiment was echoed around the table. 

Angel smiled, it was a brief smile, but full of pride and gratitude, the smile of a leader, "thank you, team. We reassemble at the Blackbird."


End file.
